


Three Rings

by ceilingpool



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Butt Plugs, Come Eating, Daddy Kink, Double Anal Penetration, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Praise Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sugar Baby Lance (Voltron), Sugar Daddy Shiro (Voltron), Sugar Daddy Thace, emphasis on the smut, like get ready it's intense, my kink is knowing they love each other, well precome eating technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 07:10:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18331136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceilingpool/pseuds/ceilingpool
Summary: Ding-dongLance shifts from foot to foot, bouquet of roses clutched tightly in front of him, waiting for the door to open. There’s no need for the butterflies in his stomach, and honestly it feels a little weird to stand here waiting when normally he’d march right in and make his presence known immediately and emphatically, often physically and sometimes twice.But tonight is special.He wants to do thisright.





	Three Rings

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a series of tumblr drabbles that took on a life of its own and got way too unwieldy to continue posting in pieces. This started out as a quick little palate-cleanser to help me with some writers' block, and now 14k words later here we are. So...I'm sorry? You're welcome? Either way, here's some fluff that gets absolutely filthy.

 

_Ding-dong_

Lance shifts from foot to foot, bouquet of roses clutched tightly in front of him, waiting for the door to open. There’s no need for the butterflies in his stomach, and honestly it feels a little weird to stand here waiting when normally he’d march right in and make his presence known immediately and emphatically, often physically and sometimes twice.

But tonight is special.

He wants to do this _right._

His bespoke suit jacket pulls in snug at his waist, emphasizing his broad shoulders and slim hips.

He hates, hates, _hates_ ironing, but he’d spent a full episode of _The Great British Baking Show_ doing just that, meticulously pressing out each and every wrinkle from his tailored button-down, biting his nails for his favorite to pull through even after a fiasco with some petit fours, developing an unhealthy craving for coffee meringues and raspberry macaroons in the process.

The stiff (but wrinkle-free!) collar itches at his neck. Thace had bought the shirt for him after the store’s matronly attendant had fawned over him and cooed about how the deep blue of the shirt brought out his eyes. Lance snorted as he recalled the exact conversation that had ended with himself two shirts and a tie richer, and Thace being very flustered as he ushered them from the store.

_“Oh you must be breaking all the girls’ hearts left and right with those pretty blue eyes!” she had tittered. “And an astronomy major you said? Handsome_ and _smart, your father here must be so proud!”_

_Lance had barely managed not to snort out loud, and smirked while Thace had an entirely unrelated coughing fit._

_“Yeah,_ Dad. _Aren’t you proud of me? Your son? Whom you raised since infancy? Remember how fun it was when you were taking over as CEO of your company while I was in fifth grade?”_

_Thace’s hand clapped down on his shoulder, a fatherly gesture of affection that nearly had Lance’s knees buckling from the force of it._

_“Terribly proud,” he agreed. “I love him very much. I think we’re ready to check out?”_

_Thace tugged him out of earshot as they followed the attendant to a register. “And if he would like me to_ continue _‘loving’ him--” he punctuated the word with a firm squeeze to Lance’s ass-- “especially in the way he was begging for last night, then he better learn real quick how to behave himself.”_

_Neither the threat in his voice or the warning grip of his hand back on Lance’s shoulder could overcome Lance’s temptation to push his buttons. “Oh daddy,” he tutted. “I think we both know that whether I behave or not, I’m gonna get exactly what I want.”_

_Later that night, wailing through a second orgasm with his scarlet-spanked ass high in the air and dripping with two loads of cum, Lance had been absolutely right._

The memory has him squirming and _oh right--_ along with the itchy collar and the pinch in his toes from dress shoes he was advised to break in and then didn’t, he’s also got a thick plug nestled inside him, invariably dragging his focus back to the pressure and promise of it with each movement other than breathing or-- yeah, pretty much just breathing.

All discomfort (and really, all higher brain function at all) is forgotten when the door swings open to reveal a broad-chested man in a classic black tuxedo, complete with bow-tie and waistcoat, the forelock of his silver hair falling dashingly over his forehead.

Appreciative gray eyes scan him from head to toe once, then again, and Lance would feel smug about it if he only had the presence of mind to-- too busy to preen with his own once-over turned twice-over turned blatant open-mouthed staring.

It’s not that Shiro doesn’t normally look good, in fact Lance thinks it’s physically impossible for him _not_ to-- he fills out his tweed jackets complete with elbow patches as well as he fills out tee shirts and sweatpants-- but it’s been scientifically proven that seeing someone you normally see in professional clothing wearing casual clothes makes them 105% hotter, whereas when someone who normally dresses down dresses _up,_ that makes them 117% hotter. Lance regularly sees Shiro both ways-- but everything he wears is dressed down compared to _this,_ so that must mean he’s...222% hotter? Lance’s dick isn’t concerned with the math, but it definitely agrees.

A chuckle breaks Lance from his stupor of (perhaps _slightly_ questionable) calculations.

“Careful there, I think you might be starting to--” a carbon-fiber thumb wipes away imaginary drool from the corner of his mouth.

Lance’s _shut up_ is lost to the lips that slide over his for an all-too-brief kiss before he’s ushered inside with a broad hand at the small of his back.

“Thace! Delivery for you, babe!”

Another man appears, even more broad-chested if that’s even possible, clad only in a towel around his hips, scrubbing another towel distractedly through his hair.

“Huh? I didn’t– _oh.”_

Suddenly Lance is blinking up at the two most handsome men he has or will ever see in his entire life. It’s silly to feel this shy, but his cheeks feel hot and he’s certain they very nearly match the vibrant red of the flowers in his white-knuckled grip.

Beyond where they’re standing before him, Lance is dismayed to see two huge flower arrangements already on the coffee table, easily worth a few hundred dollars each. Next to what they’ve gotten each other, the bouquet Lance was able to afford on his paltry barista’s salary looks pathetic. Too late to do anything about it now.

“Huh-happy ten year anniversary,” he says, thrusting the flowers towards them.

They’re taken from his hands and his temples are met with two soft pairs of lips.

“They’re beautiful, darling.”

Thace’s strikingly bright eyes, so light a brown as to be nearly amber, follow the trail his husband’s made only seconds ago. “As are you.”

“Thank you, Lance. You really do look lovely tonight.”

Synthetic fingers close around the stems. “I’ll go find a vase for these. Sweetheart, why don’t you go help your daddy pick an outfit? I’m pretty sure towels don’t fit into the Black Lion’s dress code.”

Lance huffs a laugh, taking a deep breath and willing his nerves away with passable success.

It’s just Thace.

Just Shiro.

Just like always.

He twines his fingers with Thace’s and leads him to the master bedroom.

Thace allows himself to be led, but calls back, “You might not want to leave us alone, darling. Our kitten looks good enough to eat. You might come back to find him without any clothes instead of me with any on.”

Shiro’s long-suffering sigh is audible even from the kitchen. “Behave, you two! Our reservation is in forty-five minutes and it’ll take at least fifteen to get there!”

Two warm hands cup Lance’s jaw and tilt his head up. “What daddy doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right, kitten?” Lance shivers as the breath whispers across the shell of his ear, and then lips are on his, coaxing them open to allow their tongues to tangle. Those hands move from his face to his neck, down his chest and around his shoulders to begin easing his jacket off. Lance earns himself a low, pleased rumble with his fingernails dragging through the neat trail of hair that disappears beneath the towel.

Lance yelps as a strong arm slides around his waist from behind, physically dragging him away from the kisses and wandering hands. “Get _dressed,”_ Shiro says sternly, scooping Lance up bridal-style. “I’m removing temptation. You can have him back when you’re ready to go.”

“Spoilsport,” Thace grumbles, but leans over to peck Shiro on the lips, and drops a kiss on Lance’s forehead for good measure. “Bye temptation, I’ll miss you.”

Lance waves cheerily as he is removed from the bedroom. “We’ll miss you too, daddy! Wear the charcoal one with the lavender shirt!”

Lance is dumped unceremoniously on the living room couch. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

Lance grins, sitting upright and patting the spot next to him. “But I’m _your_ trouble. And you loooove meeee.”

Shiro sinks onto the couch, hands automatically steadying Lance’s hips as he clambers to straddle his lap. Lance hides a gasp in Shiro’s hair as the plug shifts with the spread of his legs-- the weak shudder that it sparks is less easily masked.

Shiro’s wide hands settle Lance back on his (thickly muscled, perfect-to-grind-on) thighs, the too-knowing look in his eyes shifting into fond exasperation with a roll of his eyes at Lance’s guileless, too-innocent smile.

“Heaven help us,” Shiro laughs, capturing Lance’s lips in a sweet, soft kiss, “we really do.”

 

***

 

Dinner is an extravagant affair, complete with champagne in crystal flutes, a menu with no listed prices, and three different forks that each ostensibly has its own purpose. From across the room, the smooth voice of a crooner at a piano curls around them. It all seems a little overkill in Lance’s opinion, but the night isn’t about him. Plus, he supposes, celebrating your tenth anniversary with your husband is as good a reason as any to go all out.

In their cozy little booth, Shiro and Thace sit across from Lance, making eyes at each other and stealing kisses in the gaps between conversations. Lance feels privileged just to witness how utterly in love they are, and it still boggles his mind how they were able to make room in their relationship for one more.

Lance can’t help the train of thought that reminds him they also made room in their _bed_ for one more-- he tries to focus on enjoying the conversation and hors d'oeuvres (Shiro’s students’ hilariously under-reasearched essays, and tiny bites of seared ahi) rather than his impatience to get to the horizontal part of the evening. His efforts are made that much more difficult by the unignorable pressure of the toy inside of him. He’s (probably, maybe) done a good job of covering for himself, but he’s lost track of the conversation more than once.

“You’ve got your thinking face on,” Thace nudges his foot under the table. “What’s on your mind?”

Maybe not that good of a job. His actual thoughts are not exactly polite dinner conversation, so: “I-I was just thinking about how much I love you guys. And how lucky I am.”

It’s not _not_ true.

“Oh Lance, we love you too, baby.”

“ _So_ much. You mean the world to us.”

Thace and Shiro share an indecipherable look as Lance, momentarily overwhelmed into bashfulness by their sudden intensity, scrubs a hand over the blush in his cheeks-- but their entrees arrive at the table before Lance has the chance to question it.

Between bites of his quail in white truffle oil, Lance sneaks a bite of fois gras off of Thace’s place, and immediately turns his nose up at it. Shiro’s escargot goes much the same.

For his troubles, he gets two bites missing from his own meal.

The toy shifts to press directly against his prostate when he leans back against his seat, and he masks his whimper with a cough and hopes they’re too occupied eating his food to notice.

He breathes an internal sigh of relief when they continue on with nothing but a glance up.

Conversation picks back up and shifts to how Lance’s classes and job are going. Classes are mostly going well– astrophysics is giving him hell but he’s pushing through it. They good-naturedly follow the script of the well-worn argument about his job: Thace insists he doesn’t need to work at all– that’s what he and Shiro are there for. Lance counters that they’re already covering all the tuition and living costs that his scholarships and financial aid don’t cover, and he likes to be able to get them things in gratitude for all they do for him.

Shiro duplicitously plays both sides of the field, backing Thace up with a, “you don’t need to buy us things, kitten, we like taking care of you. Just having you in our lives is thanks enough. And it would also give you more time to focus on classes,” then turning right around and reasoning with Thace that job experience of any kind looks good on a resume, and that having some financial independence is good for him.

In no uncertain terms, Thace and Lance both let Shiro know that he is absolutely no help at all.

Conversation ebbs and flows through the rest of dinner and Lance idly flicks through the impressive dessert menu after his plate has been cleared.

Lance stops.

Oh _fuck_ yeah.

_Macaroons._

The waitress arrives back at their table right as Lance is pointing at the menu and saying “ _Oh, please daddy, can we?”_

To her credit, her smile never wavers and her tone is as polite and pleasant as ever when she asks if “ _the gentlemen_ _would like any dessert this evening?”_

“Whatever he wants.” The strain in Thace’s voice is almost but not quite imperceptible.

Shiro looks one second away from burying his face in his hands.

Lance can see her mind working as she waits for him to order, flicking only once from Thace and Shiro to Lance.

“We would like some blackberry macaroons, please. And for the chocolate espresso cake, what kind of icing is on it?”

“The icing is coffee-infused Swiss meringue, sir.”

“ _Yes._ Yes, please, we would also like a slice of that. Please.”

Lance smiles innocently at her, and between one blink and another, she clearly decides that she doesn’t want to know.

“Of course, sir.”

When she leaves, he grins sheepishly into two unimpressed faces.

“Well, I mean…” he starts, then gestures between himself and Thace, and their similar skin tones. “Thace _could_ be--”

“Stop,” Thace cuts him off, voice low and eyes dangerous, “and think _very carefully_ about your next words, and the potential consequences of them.”

Lance is typically very fond of ‘consequences’, but he has _plans_ for tonight, and he would prefer not to have them derailed.

“Ah, right. Um, what I was going to say. Was that. Thace _could_ be...very into the macaroons? They’re blackberry.”

He makes doe-eyes, tilting his chin demurely and blinking innocently up through his lashes.

Behind his hand, Shiro stage whispers “ _Good save!”_

Thace rolls his eyes and knocks his shoulder into Shiro’s then kicks at Lance’s ankle under the table.

“Terrible, the both of you.”

Lance soon learns that the tiniest fork is a _dessert_ fork, which prevents him from tearing into the cake like he wants to. Shiro and Thace seem to both be under the impression that you’re supposed to _savor_ dessert.

“Jokes on you. Macaroons are finger food and nothing can stop me from trying to fit as many in my mouth at one time as I can.”

Despite his words, Lance eats them one at a time, and doesn’t even put a whole one in his mouth once.

“Maintaining the barest minimum of decorum after all, I see,” Thace deadpans. “I’m so proud.”

Lance grins. “I knew you would be.”

With dessert comes another round of champagne. Lance’s nerves resurface and he sips quietly as the last macaroon disappears; Thace and Shiro chat idly while they wait for the check. They-- they’re so gorgeous, sitting there smiling at each other, at him. Beautiful, and not just on the outside. God, he’s _so_ in love, and of course they know-- they don’t need any grand gesture or speech from him to know how he feels, but today is an important day and he needs them to _know._

He’s waiting for the right moment to say what he needs to say, aware that the longer he waits for a good break in conversation, the quicker the moment might slip through his fingers and disappear. The check comes and goes. They’re finishing their glasses and soon they’ll be getting up to leave.

He steels himself.

“I, um.” He clears his throat, tries again. “I’d like to say something.”

The suddenness of their undivided attention on him makes his hands tremble and his tummy erupt in butterflies, but the warm weight of their eyes feels like a balm to his overfull heart. Shiro reaches over the table to brush his bangs back from his forehead, gentle concern in his eyes. “What is it sweetheart?”

Lance swallows. Takes a deep breath. “I know I’ve already sort of said this earlier, but I want to make sure I say it right. I just– it makes me so happy seeing the two of you happy together, and every day I’m amazed all over again that with all the love you have for each other that you were able to find room in your hearts to love me too. I’m so grateful,” his voice cracks on the word. His cheeks and eyes feel hot. “I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me, and I’m so, _so_ in love with both of you that sometimes it makes my heart hurt if I think about too long.”

He scrubs a hand across his eyes even though he’s definitely not starting to tear up.

“Shiro.” Lance reaches out to take Shiro’s hands across the table. His eyes are so tender and full that Lance feels his own eyes threaten to spill over. “You’ve taught me so much in the time we’ve been together. You’ve helped me unlearn a lot of self-destructive thought processes, and you’ve never lost your patience with me even when it would’ve been totally justifiable. I love the way your eyebrows get all squinchy when you read, and I love the way you sing in the shower in the morning when you think Thace and I are still asleep. I love that you could find a way to burn cereal, and that you think Ariana Grande is a drink at Starbucks. You’re kind, and brave, and selfless, and you make me want to be a better person.”

"Lance…” Shiro breathes, as Lance gruffly wipes away a tear that managed to escape.

He takes a deep breath and turns from Shiro to take Thace’s hands from where he’s been watching them, his own eyes conspicuously misty. “Thace. You’re my rock when I feel discouraged and doubt myself, but you also don’t put up with my shit when I try and throw a pity party. You always know how to make me laugh, but you also know when to let me cry, and I love the way you hold me until I’ve gotten it all out. I love our late-night talks, and I love the looks you shoot at me when Shiro is being especially responsible. You’ve brought so much joy into my life, and you make me feel like I can do anything.”

Thace reaches over to brush another tear away. “Oh, sweetheart…”

Thace glances at Shiro, who gives him a small nod and takes one of Lance’s hands in both of his, while Thace still grasps the other one.

“Lance,” Shiro starts when it looks like Thace needs a moment to gather himself. “I don’t know that I believe in fate, but it sure felt like fate when you stumbled into our lives. We could never have guessed how much you would come to mean to us, and honestly it was nearly impossible not to fall in love with you. Our marriage was never missing anything, but you came along and added an entire new dimension to it, and now I can’t imagine it without you. You’re incredible, and beautiful, and you’ve taught me so much about appreciating the simple things in life and finding beauty in the most unexpected places. I love you, Lance.”

Lance gazes helplessly at Shiro, blinking hard, knowing that if he opens his mouth he’s going to lose the last thread of his composure.

Thace clears his throat, drawing his attention. “Forgive me, uh, if I’m not quite as eloquent as you two. But you need to know just how special you are to us, to me. You have so much passion in you, and your laugh is damn infectious. You’ve got so much of your life ahead of you, and I can’t wait to see how far you’ll go. If you set your mind to it, you could touch the stars, baby. And we- we would be honored if you would let us stand beside you through it all.”

Lances pounding heart is deafening, and he watches as if in slow motion as Thace lets go of his hand to bring out a small black box from his pocket. It opens on its hinges to reveal a beautiful white gold ring inlaid with three dark gray bands, the thinnest band in the center, surround by two thicker ones on either side.

“If you’ll be ours…” Thace breaks off.

One of Shiro’s hands covers Thace’s on the box. “We’ll be yours as long as you’ll have us.”

Tears stream down Lances cheeks. “Yes, of course, yes.” His breath hiccups. “Oh my god you guys are gonna make me ugly-cry in public.”

Through blurry eyes, Lance watches as they lift the ring from the box, and holds out his hand as they slide it onto his finger together.

“The inlays are made of meteorite,” Shiro tells him.

Wordlessly, Lance slides out of his seat, around the table, and onto Shiro’s lap, burying his face in his neck.

“I need to be hugged so hard that I’m in serious danger of suffocation,” Lance says thickly.

“Come on then,” Shiro chuckles, urging Lance to his feet and offering Thace his hand to help him slide out behind him.

Lance is crushed between two broad chests, four arms around his waist and not an inch between them, uncaring if anyone else in the place is looking at them.

He still feels a little shaky, but his tears dry and his breathing steadies.

Thace and Shiro kiss each other over Lance’s shoulder, before peppering kisses over his cheeks and in his hair, and in that moment Lance has never felt more complete.

They finally let him go, but they each keep one of his hands, lacing their fingers together.

“I, uh, I don’t know if this is the right moment to say so, but I sort of have something for you guys too. It’s nothing like this,” he lifts his left hand to admire the ring again, dragging Thace’s hand up along with it to keep their fingers tangled. “But I think you’ll like it. I can’t give it to you until we get home though.”

“Intriguing,” Thace murmurs into his ear. “I wonder if it could have anything to do with what’s kept you squirming in your seat all night.”

Lance flushes, opens his mouth to argue but nothing comes out. He didn’t think he’d been that obvious.

“You’re not subtle, kitten,” Shiro chuckles next to him. “Lets get you home, I’m ready to unwrap my present.”

 

***

 

“Oh kitten…”

Lance’s boxer-briefs are the last article to join the pile of his already forgotten clothes.

Incongruous to the voice’s soft awe, a wide palm in the center of his back forces his chest flat to the mattress, and a Dolce & Gabanna-clad foot nudges his feet wider, putting him on display as hungry eyes drink him in.

He knows he makes a pretty picture. Is honestly a little bit shameless in the way he wiggles his hips and arches his back, wants to make it even prettier. He glances over his shoulder, makes sure those eyes are right where they’re supposed to be: on the blue-jeweled plug nestled between his cheeks that’s been keeping him loose and open all evening, teasing with the promise of what’s to come.

It’s a new plug, so Thace and Shiro don’t know this yet, but it’s thicker than any other plug he owns, and with a little more lube and about half a minute of extra prep, he’d be ready to take one of them straight to the hilt.

But taking just one at a time isn’t what he has planned tonight.

Another hand, gentler but just a broad, strokes down his side to palm his ass and spread him even wider. “Look at him, Shiro. Look how pretty our sweet boy got himself– just for us. Bet he’s been dying for it all night but he’s been so patient. Been so good haven’t you, kitten?”

“Uh-huh.” He nods, cheek rubbing against the bedspread.

He buries a triumphant smile when the hand on his back leaves to crack down on his right ass-cheek. It’s flesh, not metal and carbon fiber, and so barely smarts– a warning.

“You know better than to answer a question that way. Try again.”

Lance shivers with excitement, tries to make it look like contrition instead. He knows he’s fooling no one– the only reason he’s being held down here is because it’s exactly where he wants to be.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. “Yes daddy, I’ve been good.”

Lance gasps when the hand cracks down again, harder this time.

“You also know better than to lie to us. You haven’t been good at all have you? I think your greedy little hole just couldn’t wait long enough for one of your daddies to fill it, so you found something to fill it with yourself. Isn’t that right?”

“No daddy! I’ve been good, I promise!” He tags the uptick of a whine to the end of it. “I wanted– ah!”

Gentle fingers close around the jewel and pull on the plug. His muscles clench around it, trying to keep it in, before he forces himself to relax, to show them how stretched open he is already.

His hole flares wide around the thickest part when it’s pulled out of him, wider, he knows, than either man expected.

Thace swears lowly, and Lance has half a second to feel smug about it before before the plug is being pushed back into him. He cries out, fists clenching in the covers as his hole swallows it, the thick girth of it putting pressure on his prostate and making him whine.

“No wonder you couldn’t keep still at dinner,” Thace’s voice is full of wonder and something dark with promise. “Been so full all evening– your pretty hole looks loose enough that one of us could just fuck right into you right now if we wanted.”

Thace pulls the plug free again, circles the tapered point of it around Lance’s hole, teasing. A wide palm curls around his left hip, steadying and grounding.

“Is that what you wanted, kitten?” Shiro’s voice has dropped low with arousal, his hand tightly gripping the flesh of his ass, keeping him spread.

Lance hisses out a sound of discomfort as the plug breaches him again– the lube from earlier is getting tacky and drags uncomfortably inside him. Before he can open his mouth to say so, Shiro’s hand on his skin is gone, returning within seconds along with the snap of a cap opening.

The lube is cool where it spreads over his stretched hole, the toy easing out of him for more lube to be applied to it as well as inside his rim. Thace slides the plug back into him, pausing before the thickest swell of it enters him.

“Better?” Shiro’s voice is soft.

“Yeah,” Lance sighs, pillowing his head on his arms and focusing on relaxing. “Thank you, daddy.”

The rest of the toy slides smoothly into him. “Any discomfort?” Thace’s hand glides up from his hip and down his back.

God, he loves them so much.

“No, daddy, it’s good.”

With the assurance that Lance is ok, Shiro’s voice drops again, picks up where they left off. “Were you hoping that if you were enticing enough, that we’d get home and you’d get a cock in you straight away?”

“No, I-I just needed to stay stretched because I wanted to do something special tonight.” Here goes nothing. “I want you both to take me. T-together.”

All movement behind him stops, and the silence stretches on long enough for a thread of uncertainty to start tying knots in his stomach. Had he miscalculated how interested they would be in that? They’d never done anything like that together before– he hadn’t even considered until this moment that that might be because they didn’t _want_ to.

He suddenly feels very exposed.

No one stops him when he straightens and turns to face them, arms crossing to hug himself defensively though he tries to keep his voice light. They’re both staring at him, open shock mirrored on their faces, and Lance isn’t quite sure how to take that.

“I-if that’s ok, I mean. I just thought, well– I mean, if that’s not something you’re– I’m sorry if I– _oof!”_

The breath is knocked out of him as he’s crushed between two broad chests for the second time tonight. Lance can _feel_ it as they murmur praise and reassurance into his ears, voices vibrating in their chests as they hold him close, four unbelievably gentle hands mapping out every inch of skin they can reach.

_“Yes, god baby, of course we want that”_

_“You’re so beautiful how could we not?”_

_“I’m sorry we made you nervous, we were just surprised--”_

_“You have no idea how much we’ve thought about that, how badly we’ve wanted to take you together.”_

_“But we won’t do anything that means hurting you, and we didn’t want you to feel pressured or push yourself too hard because we wanted it.”_

Between two imposing, fully dressed men, he feels vulnerable in the best way– mouths pepper his skin with kisses, a broad palm strokes him back to full hardness. “I want it,” he moans. “I’ve been practicing. If we go slow, I-I know I can take it.”

“We’ll go as slow as you need, baby.”

“And if you _ever_ want to stop, we’ll stop immediately, no questions.”

Lance nods, overwhelmed with the outpouring of love.

From behind him, Thace’s voice comes sultry and low, teeth nipping at the shell of his ear. “So tell us, kitten. Did you touch yourself when you were stretching yourself to be able to take this?”

His hand drops between Lance’s cheeks to nudge the base of the plug, circling it inside of him.

Thace easily takes his weight when Lance leans back against him, head falling to his broad shoulder, hips jerking into the loose circle of Shiro’s fist.

“Nngh– no, I didn’t touch myself…”

Lance doesn’t like the knowing look on Shiro’s face in front of him. “That’s good baby, I’m proud of you. I think the more pertinent question though, is did you _come_ while you were stretching yourself open?”

_Caught._

Shiro’s grin is wicked. He already knows.

“It was– _ah!_ –an accident!”

Shiro’s fist tightens around him, twisting his wrist in the way that drives Lance crazy while Thace angles the base of the plug to brush against his prostate.

“Did you hear that, Thace? It was an _accident.”_

Lance whimpers.

Thace’s chest rumbles against his back. “Our poor little kitten. Just can’t control himself. He’s just so _sensitive.”_

The pressure on his prostate increases, the smooth, body-warm metal grinding against it over and over. “Please,” he gasps. He’s not sure what he’s asking for. More, maybe. Or mercy.

He gets more.

Gets the grinding pressure inside of him matching the increasing speed of the hand tight on his cock, rocketing him towards a release he already knows is going to be taken from him. His breathing shallows as the heat between his hips builds. His cock throbs.

He tries to hold back, tries to keep it at bay, but they know how to turn him into putty in their hands and they’re not pulling punches.

“Daddy, please,” he moans. “I’m so close. Please– _hah, fuck_ – please let me come, _please!_ ” It doesn’t really matter which one of them he’s talking to. It could be both– could be neither for all that it’s going to get him what he wants.

It’s expected when the hand on his cock clamps down, vice-like, at the base just as he’s about to careen over the edge– though no less devastating for it.

He whines through clenched teeth as Thace’s hands pet up and down his sides and Shiro’s mechanical fingers card through his hair.

“There now,” Thace’s hands and words are soft, but a dark amusement is heavy in his tone. “You didn’t really think it would be that easy, did you?”

He doesn’t actually expect an answer, and Shiro captures his lips before he can say anything anyway. He tastes like champagne and chocolate when he licks into Lance’s mouth. He’s pulling away before Lance can lose himself to it, his thumb brushing Lance’s slick lower lip and tilting his chin up to meet his eyes.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. If you want both of your daddies’ cocks tonight, you’re going to have to earn them. You’re going to sit obediently there on the bed and watch us, and you’re not going to touch yourself no matter what. If you can prove that you’ve got some self-control after all, we’ll fill you up fuller than you’ve ever been. Think you can do it?”

Fuck.

Lance nods fervently. “I can. I can do it.”

He gets two deep, probing kisses that don’t last long enough, and a light smack to his rear.

“Then get over there and show us how good you can be.”

Lance settles on his knees near the head of the bed, hands resting loosely on his thighs.

He shivers as their attention leaves him and they turn predatory gazes on each other. Their lips collide, thousands of dollars worth of Burberry and Brooks Brothers discarded to the floor as more and more skin is revealed, some smooth and brown, some pale and scarred, all of it beautiful and crafted straight out of Lance’s every fantasy.

His cock twitches and hands begin sliding up his thighs before he’s even aware of it. He swallows when a sharp gaze meets his eyes and flicks down to his lap, where his hands are only inches away from trouble.

He clasps them behind his back instead. He can do this.

His nails dig little half-moons into his forearms crossed behind him as his lovers–his _life-partners, god_ – grapple each other to the mattress. They pant and grin into each others’ mouths, muscles straining as they struggle to upend the other’s bulk.

Oh god, he might not be able to do this.

The three of them don’t often spend their time in bed without Lance’s active involvement, and it’s a rare thrill to watch the way they challenge each other, to see them actually have to work for it, straining to put the other where they want them in a way that they don’t have to with Lance’s slighter frame. Through sheer brute force, Thace gets Shiro underneath him with a grunt of effort, pinning his wrists above his head with one hand. Shiro grins up at him and snaps his teeth, flexing against Thace’s hold. It wouldn’t take much for Shiro to break free from the one-handed grip, except Thace’s other hand closes tight around his throat. Lance’s breath catches as Shiro tenses hard then goes lax like magic, eyes fluttering and mouth dropping open on a weak moan that comes out strangled through his constricted airway.

Lance’s cock throbs at the sound, and he closes his eyes for a brief reprieve. But he can still hear Shiro’s choked moans, and he can’t close his eyes to the memory of the last time he heard those same sounds: Shiro on his hands and knees choking himself on Lance’s cock, moaning like a whore with Thace plowing relentlessly into him from behind. What Lance wouldn’t give to sink into either of those tight, slick heats– just imagining it has a bead of precome welling up at the tip of his cock. His fingernails dig in tighter as he opens his eyes to watch like he was instructed, though the temptation to get a hand around himself is edging into unbearable.

He spreads his bent knees wider where he kneels, restless and twitchy. The motion shifts the plug inside him, rubbing just shy of where it could give him some actual relief. It sparks an idea, though. If he’s caught he’ll surely be made to stop; it doesn’t exactly follow the spirit of the law though it technically does follow the letter of it. Shiro should know better than to leave loopholes like that.

Now, as soon as Shiro and Thace are too preoccupied to notice him…

Shiro heaves in a breath as he’s released, the distraction of the sudden rush of oxygen giving Thace just enough time to put him on his front during the moment while he’s still pliable. Thace is clearly expecting it when Shiro rears up, raring again to fight his control– a heavy hand to the back of Shiro’s neck grips tight and slams him forward, face first into the mattress and too quick for Shiro to catch himself.

Shiro is slow to recover from the daze of having the wind knocked out of him– Thace takes advantage by hauling Shiro’s hips up and burying his face between his cheeks.

“Th-Thace, fuck– _oh_ –”

Lance has to suppress his own whine that threatens to bubble out of his throat at the sight and sound of it, Shiro’s thick cock hanging heavy and flushed between his legs, Thace’s strong fingers digging indents into Shiro’s ass as his tongue takes him apart.

Quick and smooth, drawing as little attention to himself as possible, Lance grabs a pillow and folds it between his legs. He rocks his hips down experimentally and _oh yeah, that’s it._ It gives him the extra leverage he needs to keep the plug rocking against his prostate with each grind of his hips, sparking jolts of pleasure through him like an electric current under his skin. Shiro _really_ should’ve known better– he restricted Lance only from touching himself, not from coming.

And with the scene playing out before him after having been dragged back from the edge once already…

Thace lets Shiro rock his hips back into his face and Lance matches his rhythm, keeping his arms tucked behind himself so there can be no question that he’s following orders. Shiro moans again, a low, punched-out sound that makes Lance’s spine go molten, makes his hips roll quicker. He’s not sure which of them he’s more envious of: Shiro with Thace’s expert tongue teasing and delving into his hole, or Thace with Shiro under his mouth and hands, crying out for him so beautifully.

Lance can too easily picture himself in either position, has quite recently _been_ in both positions, and the sense memory of it has him gritting his teeth against the whimpers threatening to spill from his lips, has heat coiling tight in his belly, the pressure inside him encouraging it hotter, brighter. Thace must do that _thing_ with his tongue– has Shiro wordlessly crying out, the arch of his back deepening further, the curve of his ass like heaven, and the visual of it is too much.

Lance starts to lose the plot, swears low and grinds harder, abandons subtlety as the pressure between his hips climbs higher. He’s too close– can’t focus on biting back the noises rising in his throat. Two pairs of eyes swivel to him as his voice breaks on a moan– he’s close, close, _close,_ he just has to finish before they realize what’s happening and get with the program quick enough to stop him. The familiar tingle starts in his fingers and toes and the pressure reaches its apex– _yes, oh fuck, he’s c---_

His cock pulses once, a splatter of cum landing on the pillow between his legs, before unforgiving fingers clamp around the base, cutting off the next spurt and very effectively ruining his orgasm.

“No! _Fuck!_ ” Lance wails. “Goddammit I was _there!”_

It’s Shiro who grips his cock like a vice, grinning wickedly like he wasn’t just getting the rimming of a lifetime. “Oh kitten. If only you could’ve been good for a little longer, we would’ve given you exactly what you asked for.”

When he’s released, his softening cock dribbles a pathetic rivulet of cum to join the mess he’s already made on the pillow.

“I didn’t do anything you said I couldn’t do,” Lance huffs. “You said not to touch myself and I didn’t.”

Thace runs a palm up Lance’s thigh and presses a chuckle into Shiro’s hair. “He’s not wrong, you know.”

Sensing a potential ally, Lance jumps on it.

Focusing all his attention on Thace, he crawls into his lap to straddle him, wrapping his arms around broad shoulders and wriggling so that Thace’s erection presses up against Lance’s ass. His hands automatically fall to Lance’s hips to steady him, just like clockwork.

“I didn’t break any rules did I, daddy?” He softens the petulant note in his voice with a wiggle of his hips, teasing friction on Thace’s cock. Thace likes it when he’s a bit of a brat anyway.

He can just about hear Shiro’s eyes rolling behind him.

“Technically, I suppose you didn’t,” Thace allows, palms absentmindedly sliding up and down the smooth skin of Lance’s thighs.

Jackpot.

His hips set a steady little rhythm in Thace’s lap– it’s not enough to nudge the plug into anything especially satisfying for himself, but more than enough for the skin-warmed base of it to brush Thace’s cock in an unforgettable reminder of what’s to come. Thace just hums placidly, but Lance can feel him twitch.

He leans in to murmur into Thace’s ear, just loud enough to make sure Shiro can hear him too. “I just wanted to feel good,” he says, the five o'clock shadow at the corner of Thace’s jaw dragging against his lips. “Is that bad? Don’t you want me to feel good, daddy?”

Thace’s hand trails over his hip to the jewel of the plug, circling a fingertip so that it rocks against his prostate. Lance’s hips jerk and he moans, soft and genuine. Against the friction of Thace’s abs, his cock begins to fill and thicken anew.

“Of course I do baby boy.”

Lance’s next moan isn’t entirely affected, but it does border on obnoxious, and he has to bite down on a giggle as Shiro snorts.

“Daddy, Shiro is so mean to me, isn’t he? I didn’t do anything wrong and he still wouldn’t let me feel nice. It’s just not fair–”

“Alright, that’s quite enough of that,” Shiro’s is clearly trying to sound stern but he’s laughing through it too much to be believable. Lance is bodily removed from Thace’s hold to be manhandled down to the bed on his back.

Shiro’s body covers his. “You’re a goddamn menace, you know that?”

Shiro tries to kiss him but they’re both grinning too hard.

“But daddy–”

Shiro claps a hand over Lance’s mouth. “A _menace_.”

Lance licks his palm-- Shiro pulls his hand back to wipe it on Lance’s face.

Shiro grins down at him as he squawks indignantly, and something about the expression brings Lance up short. It’s so achingly fond that it has him stilling, staring, his heart feeling suddenly too full to fit in his chest. He reaches up to cup Shiro’s still-smiling face.

“Lance?”

“I love you.”

Shiro’s playful smile softens, a mechanical thumb tracing a delicate cheekbone.

“I love you too, sweetheart. So much.”

Their lips meet in something slow and tender that deepens and dirties until Lance is gasping and whining into Shiro’s mouth and Shiro is fully hard against his hip. Lance makes grabby-hands over Shiro’s shoulder and Thace is at his side in an instant, nibbling at his ear, his neck, tonguing at the freckles on his shoulder, fingertips dancing along the crease of his hip.

Shiro’s lips find the hollow of Lance’s throat, then the dip of his collarbones.

Lance’s eyes slide closed so all he can do is feel.

“Thace?” he sighs.

“I’m here, baby. What is it?”

“I love you.”

Lance can feel Thace smile into his ribs.

“I know, kitten. I love you too.”

Lance loses himself to the feeling of hands and lips on his skin, a tongue occasionally darting between his lips to slide across his own, shuddering at the sting of teeth at his sharp hipbone, whining and arching as blunt nails drag from his belly to his chest. His cock throbs, insistent and untouched, the barrage of sensations all over his body driving him higher, adding fuel to the fire of his arousal. His hands are restless, clenching in the covers, then burying into two heads of hair with a jolt as two hot mouths cover his nipples.

“ _Ah!_ Daddy-- daddy _fuck--”_

Teeth and tongues assault his nipples until he’s writhing, twin growls resonating through his skin as his fists clench, tugging hard at the hair in his grip. The sensations spark through him, have him tossing his head at the intensity, panting pleas for more and less, confused hands unsure if they’re trying to push away or pull closer.

The decision is made for him and his hands fall away to the covers again, nails digging into the fabric as the torturous mouths leave his tender nipples, and nimble fingers dance up the inside of one trembling thigh; he spreads them easily, whimpering softly as his balls are cradled and squeezed.

“Mm, look at this Takashi…”

A single finger draws up the underside of his cock, gathering the precome that’s welled up and spilled down his length.

“Kitten’s gotten himself all messy. What do you think we should do about that?”

He squirms under the scrutiny, flushing darker as they watch his neglected cock pulse out another clear bead that slides over the already slick head.

“You’re right, Thace. What a mess.” Shiro’s eyes take Lance’s and hold them. It’s amazing how easily dominance settles on Shiro’s shoulders like a mantle, affording him a self-assured authority that leaves Lance hanging on every word. “I think he should clean it up.”

It’s not fair that the depth and cadence of the command in Shiro’s voice is enough to send shudders down his spine and _more_ precome leaking from his aching cock. It’s _embarrassing,_ the physical evidence of how much this affects him slicking his cock and pooling on his belly. If they want what it _sounds_ like they want, all he can hope for is that they can feed him his own precome on their fingers faster than he can spill it.

He props himself up on his elbows and spreads his legs wider, lets his eyes shutter and his mouth drop open, tongue out and eager.

“Oh, _good boy,”_ Thace is breathing, and then Lance is sucking the taste of himself off his finger, swirling his tongue and moaning, maybe at the praise, maybe the taste, maybe the whole situation where he has two gorgeous men who love him naked and hard and hellbent on taking him apart.

But the why of it is secondary when-- _oh, fuck, please--_

The why of it is _wholly unimportant_ when there’s a hand around him finally, _finally,_ the slide of it slick and easy, fingers dancing around the head and gathering more slick that his helpless cock just leaks more and more of. He whines when the hand leaves him, then louder once it’s at his face and he’s gripping a titanium alloy wrist in one hand and sucking himself off each finger one by one, licking at the soft grip-textured pad on each fingertip before dragging his tongue over the soft palm, flicking his tongue between each finger to make sure he didn’t miss any.

“That’s it baby boy, you want it all don’t you? You don’t want to miss a drop. You see how good you taste?”

“Mhmm,” he hums into Shiro’s palm, covering it with tiny kitten licks. “So good, daddy, please can I have more?”

Fingers slide through the mess on his belly and he’s got three pressing the taste of himself onto his tongue. “Since you asked so nicely for it.” Thace nuzzles into Lance’s neck, breathing deeply as Lance sucks on his fingers, peppering kisses and sweet words of praise into his skin.

Thace chuckles softly when he pulls his hand away and Lance tries to follow to keep his fingers in his mouth. “I think you got it all, kitten, you’re being so good.”

Lance licks his lips, tasting his goal within reach.

“Good enough for you to split me open on your cocks?”

Shiro smacks him lightly on the thigh. “Cheeky little thing.”

Thace brushes Lance’s hair back from his forehead, contemplative. “What do you think, Shiro? Think he’s earned it? He _did_ interrupt you while you were getting eaten out, after all.”

“Hey! You were supposed to be on my side!”

Thace grins and shrugs, pressing an unrepentant to kiss to both of Lance’s cheeks. “All’s fair, love.”

“Gotta do everything myself around here,” Lance grouses, sitting up and swinging a leg over Shiro’s thighs, wiggling to settle with Shiro’s erection brushing his ass and steadying hands on his hips.

He lets his lower lip stick out just slightly, keeping his eyes downcast and running a finger up and down the middle of Shiro’s chest.

“Hey daddy?”

Lance tries not to giggle. Shiro’s lips twitch.

“Yes baby?”

He keeps his chin tilted down, but looks up at Shiro through his lashes. Just because they both know Lance is hamming it up doesn’t mean it’s not effective. “I’m really, _really_ sorry for being bad earlier. Can I make it up to you? Can I bend you over and lick you out to show how sorry I am for interrupting you right when you were feeling really good? I can’t imagine what that feels like but it must’ve been _awful._ Or-- and this is just an idea-- to show you how sorry I am, you and Thace could both stuff my little hole full of cock and pump me full of cum. Y’know, out of contrition.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re a menace?”

“Mm, that’s not what your dick twitching against me said.”

Shiro’s eyes narrow, and Lance tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, blinking innocently.

Shiro raises his eyes to the heavens with a beleaguered groan, like the ceiling might offer him the strength to deal with the impossible boy in his lap. “Alright, you.” He punctuates his words with a finger to the center of Lance’s chest. “I want you know that this little act of yours is _only_ working because I’m letting it. And I _will_ be taking you up on your original offer at a later date.”

With an exaggeratedly put-upon sigh, he says “Thace, babe, could you hold this for me?”

Thace barely has a chance to settle against the pillows at the headboard before Shiro hauls up and dumps Lance into his lap in an unwieldy sprawl. Smug in his victory, Lance easily allows himself to be manhandled into a halfway reclined position with his back against Thace’s chest, hands resting on Thace’s thick thighs.

“You didn’t hear this from me, kitten,” Thace murmurs into his ear, “but I think you’re in for it.”

“I know,” Lance stage-whispers back, wiggling further into his embrace, pleased when Thace hums as his erection presses into the small of Lance’s back. “I’m kinda counting on that.”

Lance’s legs fall open insouciantly, smirking at Shiro in blatant challenge before nuzzling sweetly into the base of Thace’s throat.

Shiro mutters something under his breath that sounds an awful lot like ‘goddamn menace,’ before his hands are behind Lance’s knees and he’s pushing his thighs up and out, leaning his body weight into it so that he’s nearly hovering over Lance, eyes flashing.

The unexpected stretch has his muscles protesting but he just grunts and takes it, the show of strength in Shiro’s unyielding grip and the way he holds Lance immobile _so_ worth the burn in his thighs. Why the thought that Shiro could snap him in half like this with just a little more pressure has Lance’s cheeks flushing and his dick twitching is something he still hasn’t quite unpacked. It’s certainly not the first time he’s had the thought and it never fails to wind him up further.

The tilt to Shiro’s lips says that he knows _exactly_ what this does to him.

“You ready to be good yet, or do you still have some cheek to get out of your system?”

Well if he’s gonna be given a choice about it…

Lance opens his mouth with the full intention of smarting off when the pressure on his legs markedly increases, deeping the stretch nearly to the wrong side of discomfort, the threat that he could absolutely break Lance glinting in Shiro’s eyes.

Lance shudders, the snark dying on his lips as a stuttered moan falls from them instead.

“I-- _ah,_ I’ll be good.”

“Good boy.” The stretch in his hamstrings lessens as Shiro eases back and presses a sweet kiss to the inside of his knee. “Could you help me keep him spread, babe?”

“Mm, on the condition that you tell me how he looks.” Thace’s deep voice rumbles through his back as his arm around his middle resettles Lance more heavily against him. His knees bend up so they bracket Lance’s hips, allowing Shiro to hook Lance’s legs over them, putting him fully, obscenely on display.

“I guarantee you that will not be a hardship,” Shiro says softly. Firm hands rub soothing circles into the muscles of his inner thighs, encouraging Lance to relax.

“There we are, that’s it,” Thace praises when Lance lets out a long exhale and sinks completely into his hold, head leaning back on his shoulder. He’s supporting nearly all of Lance’s weight like it’s nothing, and Lance feels small in the absolute best way, so much strength in the men surrounding him, and all of it put to use to bring him pleasure and comfort.

“Close your eyes, darling, and just feel.” Thace’s hands stroke up and down his arms. “Takashi, please.”

Shiro chuckles warmly at the plea in Thace’s voice and circles the base of the plug with his thumb before beginning to pull it out. “Mm, look at that. God, Thace, he stretches so well. Just open right up for me, don't you kitten? Oh _good boy,_ his pretty pink hole just swallows it right back up.”

Lance whines, tries to focus on relaxing into the stretch, struggling against his body’s urge to tense and tighten at the sparks of heat the praise sends up his spine and the way Shiro keeps pulling the plug out halfway to then watch as his inner muscles drag it back inside. The inconsistent friction against his prostate has him clenching harder each time Shiro tugs it out again, self-control fraying in the face of the desire to keep the sweet pressure inside himself.

“Kitten thinks I’m teasing too much,” Shiro laughs as the plug fills Lance again. “He’s getting so tight when I try to pull it out now. Don’t want to let it go do you, sweetheart? Just wanna stay filled up.”

He does. All he wants is to be filled until he's breaking apart-- the plug is a poor substitute for what he knows is coming, what he truly wants, but it's what he's got right now and he doesn't want to let it go. Like a dog that wants to play fetch but doesn't want to drop the ball for his master to throw it.

Lance isn’t the only one who makes that connection.

“Drop it, boy.” Shiro’s grin is all teeth.

Fingers tug lightly on the base and angle it up to press directly into his prostate, laughing low and little mean when Lance arches and whines, clamping down harder than ever. Something like shame crawls up his cheeks, that he’s this wound up from a little prostate stimulation and the teasing implication that he’s behaving like a stubborn pet-- but it’s this particular sticky-sweet flavor of shame that Shiro seems to elicit effortlessly, makes him run hot all over, makes his dick twitch and leak, drives everything from his head except the drive to be a _good boy_ , to earn the next tidbit of praise, lapping up each _that’s it beautiful, look at that pretty mouth, so sweet for me kitten,_ like so many table scraps.

He _wants_ to be good, but his body is strung tight, breathing shallow as Shiro rocks the plug mercilessly into him and pretends that he doesn’t know he’s the reason Lance can’t relax and end his own torture.

“P-please, I wanna be good, please I-- _hngg!”_

Shiro’s hand closes around his cock, the flesh of his palm dragging on the oversensitive head and smearing the fluid there. When a loose fist begins to stroke him in time with the nudges against his prostate, it briefly occurs to Lance that maybe he died from overdosing on pleasure and this is his purgatory, destined to be forever worked over by maddeningly skilled hands brought to the edge and back but never allowed to tip over it. His fingers dig in hard as his eyes roll back, hips jerking, desperate for the friction that will end his torment and send him to heaven.

A grunt from behind him and large hands encircling his wrists and dragging them up has Lance’s eyes blinking open, but the undeterred attention to his cock nearly has them sliding closed again, less concerned about the restraining grip his hands are caught in than Shiro doing that _thing_ with his hand _oh god--_

_“Shiro.”_

Thace’s voice is strained.

“Hm?”

Shiro’s hands leave him long enough for Lance to come back to himself with a gulp of air, his hands set gently down and released as some of the tension bleeds out of him.

“Much fun as this is, darling, might we progress? You see, I’ve got this sweet young thing in my lap, and with all the squirming, moaning, and clawing, I find my self-control waning.”

Clawing?

Lance lifts a hand off Thace’s thigh, gasping at the five half-moon indents bitten deep into the skin, the same pattern mirrored on the other leg. At least he didn’t break the skin.

“Thace, I didn’t--”

“Shh, I know sweetheart.” Warm hands soothe up his sides and soft lips brush across his temple. “It’s not _you_ I blame.” His tone makes it abundantly clear whose fault he _does_ consider it.

Shiro has the decency to look appropriately chagrined for the moment it takes to check that Thace is alright, and on the determination that he is not hurt, just horny, Shiro’s predatory smirk slides back into place.

“We’ll move on,” Shiro concedes, “but one of these days I’m going to tie you both down and see who can’t take being teased anymore and begs first. Winner gets to fuck me, loser gets to watch.”

Lance mumbles a quiet but heartfelt _fuck_ while Thace exhales sharply, his dick twitching against Lance’s back.

“But that’s for later.” Shiro waves a dismissive hand through the air, shooing the idea away. Lance makes a mental note, because he is for damn sure not going to let that idea stay dismissed for long. Shiro’s hands smooth up and down Lance’s still-spread thighs, gently circling the base of the plug. “Can I have it?”

Lance nods and relaxes, but at the first tug his body clamps down on it, an automatic response now after having been teased for so long. “Can’t keep going if you don’t let it go, baby.” His tone is amused, but his hands are soft as they rub circles into his calf muscles and over his quads.

“I know, I know, I’m trying.”

Thace crosses his arms across Lance middle, lacing their fingers together and nosing into his hair. “Lean your head back on my shoulder and breathe with me, ok?”

He focuses on the steady rhythm of Thace’s broad chest and lets his eyes slip closed, willing himself to relax. The toy comes free and he whines for the loss of it, the emptiness feeling unnatural after having been filled for so long.

“There we go, good boy,” Shiro praises, pressing a kiss to the inside of his knee and sliding off the bed.

While Shiro is in the bathroom rinsing the toy, Thace peppers kisses into his hair and nuzzles him, Lance reaching up behind him to stroke his cheek and getting a sweet kiss to his palm instead.

Shiro stops beside the bed to give Thace a heady kiss, laughing and giving in when Lance pouts for one too.

“How do your hips feel?” Shiro asks as he kneels between Lance’s legs.

Lance takes stock of his body, noticing a slight twinge in both hips. He’ll feel the ache more acutely tomorrow, but he’s loving being in this position too much to want to leave it. “A little bit stiff, but nothing hurts. I’m good.”

With Lance’s affirmation, Shiro has two slicked fingers pushing into him without preamble, sliding up the knuckle with no resistance, the textured fingertips lighting his nerve endings on fire.

“Ah, fuck!” Lance’s body jolts at the unexpected intrusion. He didn’t even see Shiro get the lube. He must have grabbed it off the nightstand while Lance was still reeling from his kisses.

The stretch from two fingers is easy. It feels _right_ to have something back inside him, and he’s ready for three within a few strokes. The third finger is a tighter fit, but he’s been practicing for this in his alone time for weeks, been fantasizing about it for longer. A few deep breaths through the stretch as Shiro twists and scissors his fingers, then it’s nothing but slick-hot pleasure.

After he gets used to three he’s usually ready to whine for a cock in him, sometimes making it to four if someone plans on being particularly rough with him. But he’s going to have to take a lot more than that if he’s to get what he wants tonight.

“Feel good, baby?” Shiro smiles like he knows it does, but the smug, predatory tilt to his lips and flash in his eyes is gone, replaced instead with an open eagerness tempered with caution-- enjoying the show but watching carefully for any reaction that indicates pain or discomfort.

“You-- _ah,_ already know the _hah_ answer to that.”

Thace’s lips brush the shell of his ear as he hums, “Yeah, but we like to hear you say it.”

“God, ok, _yes._ It feels good. It feels so fucking go--od _fuck Shiro!”_

Three textured fingertips pressing and circling directly on his prostate leaves Lance’s head swimming; his straining cock pulses a thick bead of precome that leaves a sticky strand as it rolls off the head to join the mess still on his belly.

“Ready for four?” Shiro’s fingers pulse in and out of him in short strokes, the angle changed to give him a chance to breathe.

“Yeah, yes.” Lance takes a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

His hips shift when Shiro removes his fingers for more lube, his hole fluttering and trying to clench around nothing.

With the bottle of lube in hand, Shiro pauses, a contemplative look on his face. A grin spreads on his face and he tosses the bottle, still closed, within reach off to the side.

“...Babe?”

“Seems a waste, doesn’t it?” Shiro starts, like they’re having an intellectual conversation instead of sex. “Someone can’t stop making a mess of themselves...so we might as well use it.”

He drags his hand through the fluid on Lance’s stomach, watching the webbing of the clear strands as he spreads his slick-shiny fingers.

Is he really going to--?

Lance cries out as three fingers breach him again, up to the knuckle with no resistance.

They twist, thoroughly coating his insides with--with his own…

He covers his face with his hands, a pathetic whine issuing between his clenched teeth as the same hand that he hungrily licked his own precome off of earlier now spreads more around inside of him. _Fuck,_ why is that so _hot?_

“Fucking _hell,_ Shiro.” Well, at least he’s not the only one.

Thace’s chest rumbles with a groan as he ruts up against Lance before getting himself back under control, leaving his own slick trail on Lance’s skin.

An inferno still in his cheeks, Lance lets his hands fall weakly as Shiro’s pinky begins to breach him with the other three, his head dropping back to Thace’s shoulder again.

Four fingers is...snug.

Closer to his knuckles it starts to sting, but Shiro works him through it patiently and diligently, praising how well he’s doing to both him and Thace, while Thace pets his hair and murmurs encouragement.

When four fingers goes up to the knuckle smoothly and the burn from the stretch has subsided, Shiro slows. Lance blinks bleary eyes open to see Shiro looking truly hesitant for the first time tonight, his cheeks pink.

“Shiro?”

“Lance, do you, um, do you think you can take my whole hand?”

He honestly hasn’t really thought about it. He definitely didn’t know this was a _thing_ for Shiro-- and they’ve been together for _years_ \-- but the flushed hopeful-but-not-daring-to-be-too-hopeful look on his face tells Lance that it definitely is. The way he pictured tonight going, he figured he’d take one of their cocks and then take more fingers until the other could fit. But if he takes Shiro’s hand first, then he should be able to take them both nearly at the same time. And if it’s one of Shiro’s _things..._

“Hell fuckin yeah I can.”

His candid enthusiasm startles a short bark of laughter from Shiro, while Thace chuckles behind him. “That’s our kitten.”

Shiro pulls his hand away for more lube, _real_ lube, but not before leaning up to crush his mouth to Lance’s.

“Thank you, Lance. _Please_ tell me at any point if it hurts or if you want to stop. Promise.”

“What can I say?” Lance says with an eye waggle. “I’m a man of the people.” He brushes Shiro’s silver hair back from his face, goofy smile melting to something soft. “And I promise. I love you too much to let you hurt me. You’d never forgive yourself, and mopey Shiro is the _worst.”_

Thace confirms Lance’s assertion, and Shiro just rolls his eyes with a smile before settling back between Lance’s legs.

With lube generously applied to both Shiro and Lance, the quick stretch of three fingers, then four again to reacclimate goes smoothly. Shiro stays with four at altering speeds and angles until Lance is once again flushed and panting.

Compared to the intensity of taking four fingers to the knuckle the first few times, the addition of Shiro’s thumb seems almost anticlimactic. With all five fingers pressed tight together, the stretch of the first few gentle thrusts really isn’t that much dif--

“Ohh _hh my god.”_

“Lance? Does it hurt?” Shiro holds his hand perfectly still.

It-- well. Technically, yes. With Shiro’s hand just past the middle joints of his fingers, the stretch of it burns. Easily overpowering the pain, though, is the sheer _intensity_ of it. He feels almost... _high_ with it, his brain overloading with the thought of how much he still has left to take.

“It’s good, it’s good,” he pants. “Just-- just--keep going in and out to exactly where you are now. I’ll-- _hahh--_ tell you when you can go f-further.”

Lance loses track of time like that, adjusting to the stretch in increments until the widest part of Shiro’s hand is breaching him and _holy shit Shiro’s whole hand is in-fucking-side of him._

The pleasure centers of his brain must be lighting up like a Christmas tree-- there’s still a dull, aching throb but Lance can barely feel it, tangled as it is with the white-hot coil of pleasure that’s consuming him from the inside out. It’s more than he’s prepared for, more than he could have ever conceivably known to prepare for-- _everything_ is more and he needs Shiro to fucking move before he _desentigrates._

“Please p-please Shiro move-- _ah_ it’s good it’s good, I need-- _oh shit,_ _please_ I need it, I can’t, I can’t-- _nnngh!”_

He scarcely knows what he’s saying between gasping breaths and helpless, hiccupping moans, but it’s enough to get the message across as Shiro’s hand starts making little pulsing thrusts inside of him. There are hands and voices petting and praising him, but he can barely process any of it over the knuckles dragging relentlessly across his prostate with every movement.

“Oh fuck, just like that-- don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop, _fuck!”_

The familiar tingling sets into his fingers and toes but it’s cranked up to eleven, a crackling electricity that swiftly climbs his limbs and meets at his core. Oh god, it’s never felt like this and he should be coming-- should be but he’s not because it just keeps _building--_ feels like the exposed live wire of his body is being dragged backward into the unbearable pleasure like the tide before a tsunami and taking him tumbling with it.

He thrashes.

Wails.

The wave climbs higher and higher, building with every second of neverending assault to his prostate until finally, _finally_ it begins to crest and Lance knows it is going to be _devastating._

His orgasm slams into him, locking his muscles and knocking the breath from his lungs, eyes squeezed shut and mouth dropping open on a silent, tortured scream as it _keeps fucking going--_ each pulse of his cock streaking his front with thick ropes of white until he manages to gasp in a breath, exhaling on a piteous moan as he trembles through the aftershocks.

Boneless and half-delirious, he slumps into the warm body beneath him.

Shiro’s hand gently withdraws with only minor discomfort at Lance’s mumbled assent; he hisses as one leg then the other is shifted to stretch out straight in front of him, then doesn’t stir again until a cool cloth wipes the sweat from his forehead and wetness from his cheeks.

“Hey there.”

Lance’s heavy eyes open on Shiro’s face smiling down at him.

“Hey.” God, his voice sounds like he’s smoked a pack a day since infancy.

Shiro chuckles. “How ya feelin?”

Lance huffs a short laugh. “Good. _Real_ good. A little shaky, but.” He shrugs. “I, uh, I’m sorry for, y’know.” He gestures at the streaks splattered across himself.

“Oh, honey, you did so good, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” Thace rubs his hands soothingly up and down his arms before easing Lance from his lap to lie on his back between them.

“That was--” Shiro wipes the mess from Lance’s chest and stomach as he searches for the words. “That was incredible. And so, _so_ hot. I’m still in awe that you let me do that at all.”

Lance hums, feeling dopey and loose in the aftermath. “I’ve never felt anything like that. It was so intense, like-- it’s not something I can handle all the time or anything, but I’m definitely willing to, ah... revisit it sometime.”

“I think we can work with that,” Thace says while he thumbs firm circles into Lance’s stiff hip flexors. “Plus, I think I’d like to _try my hand_ with you sometime.” He winks and waggles his eyebrows.

“Ugh, you’re the worst,” Lance complains, pushing Thace away with a palm to his face (but not so far that his hand stops working magic into his hips). “Plus, _I_ make the puns around here.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhm.”

Thace drops it with an unconvinced “we’ll see” and focuses on easing the stiffness from Lance’s achy hips.

Lance sinks into it, mind floaty, as he simply enjoys the feeling of the two men beside him.

He blinks back to himself when Shiro strokes his jaw, gently getting his attention.

“Hey.”

Lance smiles. “Hey.”

“You look about done in. How about I run you a bath? Get you cleaned up and let you rest.”

A bath does sound nice, especially in the ridiculously sized tub in the master bathroom…

Lance’s brow furrows. He did not get this far with his plans for the night just to stop right before the grand finale.

He shakes his head. “No. I’m doing what I said I was going to do.”

“I kind of thought you might say that.” There’s a smile in Shiro’s voice, but he still looks concerned. “I can’t convince you to take it easy and recover, and we’ll work up to Thace and me on a different night?”

“Nope.” He pops his lips on the ‘p’ and sits up, trying to hide the fact that his muscles all feel like jello. “Nothing hurts, and I’m about as loose and relaxed as I’m ever going to get. Plus…” He blushes slightly and glances at the dish on the nightstand that holds three rings inside. “This whole night has been just. Perfect. More than I ever could have dreamed. It’s been so special to me and I want it to have the perfect ending, y’know? I’ll back down if you really don’t want to, but I still really, really want you both to fuck me.” His eyes flick down Shiro’s body and his smile takes a sly edge to it. “And I’m just saying, it certainly doesn’t _look_ like you don’t want to.” He winks and Shiro blushes, unable to deny Lance’s words with his cock still flushed proud and hard.

Thace slides an arm around Lance’s waist as he sits up behind him. “It’s a good thing you’ve got two pinkies,” he murmurs soft and warm into his ear.

“Cause I’ve got the both of you wrapped around them?”

“Mm, you know you do, baby. With no further objections,” he glances up at Shiro, checking. At Shiro’s smile and nod, he continues, “I think it’s about time we get you wrapped around something else.” Then deep and a little growly in a way that sends a shiver up Lance’s spine, “You’ve played hell on my self-control tonight, baby boy. I’m gonna enjoy watching you cry on our cocks when we paint you up from the inside.”

“Jesus, Thace,” Shiro groans, leaning across Lance to take Thace’s mouth in a short, deep kiss. “Let me keep the last thread of _my_ self-control, yeah? I’m already not sure how long I’m gonna be able to hold out. Shit, when he came he clenched so hard on my hand I thought I might not get it back, and imagining that on my _cock…”_ He shakes his head as if to clear it. “Let’s just get started.”

Despite their talk, the loves of Lance’s life are gentle as ever as they help Lance get into position, and don’t even tease him when he needs extra support for his wobbly limbs.

Thace’s knees hang off the foot of the bed, feet planted on the floor, his hands spanning Lance’s hips and taking a significant amount of his weight where Lance’s shaky knees sink into the mattress on either side of his hips.

(Thace had pled his case for this position as, in Thace’s own words: a) he was taller and would therefore would have a better ability to brace against the floor for better support, and b) please, Takashi, baby, you got to see him come last time, it’s only fair that it’s my turn now, right? Shiro had relented with good grace, and now stands behind Lance, between Thace’s spread knees.)

With plenty of extra lube to go around and the bottle within easy reach, a murmured “I’m ready” from Lance has Thace guiding him down onto his cock. The thick head spreads him wide, Lance with a sigh and Thace with a groan as Lance takes him inch by steady inch. Thace tries to lift him up again, to help him gradually take more with each gentle thrust like normal, but Lance resists, says “let me” and takes Thace to the hilt in a single slide.

“ _God_ Lance. How can you take me so easy but still be so goddamn _tight?”_ Thace twitches inside him when he rocks his hips for a little friction, a little encouragement for his half-hard cock to join the party. Lance doesn’t answer, just wiggles his hips in a motion designed to tease and clenches down as much as he can. Thace grunts, holds Lance’s hips immobile and thrusts up into him.

It’s one of Lance’s favorite ways to be fucked and Thace knows it. Is ready for the way Lance ragdolls with a moan, still holding himself upright but barely, head lolling back and giving nearly all his weight to Thace for him to hold him steady and take his pleasure from Lance’s body.

Thace stills long before Lance is ready for him to, lifts his head up with an effort to pout down at him. “Sorry honey.” Thace pats his flank and gets him comfortably seated on his cock. “Had to stop before I couldn’t. We’ve got plans, remember?”

A just in case he didn’t, he gets a reminder in the form of a slick finger circling his hole.

“Hold still for me, kitten, ok?” Shiro directs from behind him. “Nice deep breath for me, that’s it. One more.”

On his next exhale, a blunt-nailed finger slides into him and he and Thace curse in unison. He’s fully hard now, his hole twitching at the new stretch but finding no pain.

“How’s that?”

“Good, it’s good. Doesn’t hurt at all. I can take another.”

It’s a testament to how badly Shiro wants this that he doesn’t ask Lance if he’s sure, just eases the next finger in alongside. Shiro does insist on moving up to three fingers despite Lance’s insistence that he can take him after two.

Three might hurt a little, but Lance can’t be bothered to pay attention to it because all of his focus is suddenly on Thace underneath him. His deep, measured breaths and gentle hands have been replaced with poorly bitten back moans and fingertips digging into the meat of Lance’s thighs. Typically the most composed of the three, it’s beyond hot to see Thace wrangle with his control. Lance isn’t sure why the addition of the third finger is making such a big difference to him, but he’s not complaining about the show.

It doesn’t connect until Shiro asks sweetly, “You ok there, babe?” And he realizes that Shiro is deliberately dragging his fingers directly up and down the vein on the underside of Thace’s cock as he stretches him.

“You’re doing that _ahh-_ on purpose!”

“Hmm. Am I?”

“Yes, you a- _aaah, Lance you little--”_

Lance relaxes his muscles from clamping down hard, smirking a little as even Shiro swore lowly at the sudden tightness. Yeah, Lance is about to get his way.

“I’m ready, Shiro. I promise. And if this goes on much longer I think we might break Thace.”

Thace won’t say so, but his face says he agrees.

Lance is prepared to tell Shiro that he’s sure at least a few more times, but Shiro doesn’t question him, just presses short line of kisses over Lance’s shoulders and lines up.

_Damn,_ he must want it bad.

A quick drizzle of extra lube and Shiro’s pressing, pressing and this part kind of hurts but then Lance opens for him and he’s _in,_ it’s only the head so far but he’s _in, and god Lance was a fool for ever thinking he knew what this was going to feel like._

God, he’s split wide open, feels like he’s being torn in half but the hands and bodies and words that surround him are keeping him together like they always do, like they always _will,_ and Lance sobs and gasps, “More,” and more is what he gets.

It takes a few slow thrusts for Shiro to get seated fully, and Thace looks like he’s going to shake apart under the strain of keeping still.

Shiro has stilled to let Lance adjust but he doesn’t need it, doesn’t want to be gentled through it anymore now that he’s here. He knows what he wants, and he knows exactly how to get it.

“Thace.” He reaches down to take the man by the chin, briefly scratching through his short beard. He holds Thace’s beautiful amber eyes with a firm gaze, sharpens his voice to that of a man who knows he is going to be obeyed, and says “Fuck me. Now.”

The first thrust is tentative, but Thace’s mouth drops open at the friction--instantly addicted as he drives his hips up into Lance, helpless to stop. “That’s it,” Lance gasps, swiping his tongue over Thace’s lower lip, slick and dirty. “Good boy.” Thace gapes at him for the briefest moment, and _oh hell yeah_ he can feel Thace’s cock jerk from it. Lance manages a quick, cocky little grin as Thace’s eyes narrow at him, and he doesn’t have to say a word for Lance to know that _ooh boy he is in for it now._

He’s ready for it.

It’s at the same moment that Thace snaps his hips into Lance with a vengeance that Shiro can’t keep himself still with both the impossible pressure of Lance around him combined with the friction from Thace-- his low groan is the only warning Lance gets before there are _two cocks thrusting into him together, he was_ not _ready for it, wasn’t built to withstand how good it feels, holy shit holy--_

“Shit!”

Lance’s composure shatters between one moment and the next, collapsing down onto Thace’s chest with a wail, held still between the two men he’s given himself to as they take him together. He has just enough presence of mind to gasp “good” to make sure they don’t worry, to make sure they don’t _stop,_ but then _he_ can’t stop, can’t fucking close his mouth, words hot on Thace’s skin.

“Oh f-fuck, _fuck,_ please it’s so good so good so-- _nngh!_ good, _ah ah_ I can’t-- p-please don’t stop don’t st- _ahhh!”_

He’s struggling to get his unsteady arms beneath himself, to brace himself up for a better angle but his body is entirely outside of his control. With a grunt, Shiro heaves him up with a metal arm across his chest, holding the weight of Lance’s entire upper body with that single arm as he keeps Lance propped over Thace.

With the change in angle, Lance’s words devolve entirely into whining and moaning, animal sounds that Lance has lost the capacity to be embarrassed of.

Thace swipes a finger through the small puddle Lance left on his stomach, amazement on his face as Lance’s mouth drops open and he whimpers for it, not struggling against Shiro, but leaning forward in his iron grip. “Oh you sweet little thing,” he groans as Lance sucks his finger clean with a pleased moan.

_“Oh,_ oh fuck, Takashi do you feel that? He’s--”

“I know, I know,” Shiro pants. “Feels like he’s rippling around me, like-- like he’s _milking_ us, _fucking hell.”_

Lance whines and scrabbles ineffectually at the metal barring his chest as the cocks inside him throb nearly in tandem.

“Are you doing that on purpose, baby?” Shiro asks, breathless. “I- I don’t know how long I can hold out if you keep that up.”

Lance can feel it, feel his muscles trying to drag them in and keep them there but he has no more control over that than he has over his trembling legs or leaking cock.

“I can’t--”

Words are an effort.

“I can’t help it, I’m sorry--”

“Shh, no sweetheart, you’re doing amazing,” Shiro assures him, “You feel so good, Lance, god you’re so fucking beautiful.”

Lance is gone, out of his head with pleasure and praise, can feel the love poured through the hands on his body like a tangible thing, sinking into his skin and settling into his bones. He doesn’t realize there are tears spilling down his cheeks until Thace reaches up to him, brushes his fingers through the wet tracks on his cheeks.

“Oh sweetheart,” Thace sighs. “Look at you. You’re so gorgeous like this, split open and crying on our cocks. Do you need a break, baby?”

The possibility of this _stopping_ affords Lance the words he needs to make sure it doesn’t.

“No! Don’t-- _please_ don’t stop, I’m good, it’s good, it’s so good please, I need--”

He trails off on a whimper, can’t articulate what he needs besides _this,_ more of this until he’s been marked up inside by his lovers, claimed in the most carnal way, the mindless animal inside of him rearing up at the thought of being taken like that-- _owned_ like that.

“Take me,” Lance breathes, eye fluttering shut, focusing on the liquid heat pooling in his belly and licking under his skin. “Make me yours.”

Promises of _yours, mine,_ and _forever_ carried on moans and gasping breaths press into his skin and fill all the spaces between them until everything else in the world falls away.

Lance is content to let his lovers find their pleasure in him, the swirling heat that’s building inside himself less urgent than the need to please, to take care of the men who have so unguardedly cared for him, asking in return only that he be himself.

Unexpected is Thace’s hand curling around his drooling cock, hypersensitive from lack of attention and sending Lance reeling. Each stroke fans the flames higher, only a few flicks of his wrist and Lance’s need goes from manageable to all-consuming, any attempt to press it down to focus on his lovers’ pleasure first like throwing a bucket of water on a wildfire.

“O-oh god... _hhah_ fuck I can’t, i-if you keep going I-I-- _fuck god_ I’m so close _please_ ,” Lance whimpers, brows furrowed as he tries to hold back.

“That’s it, baby, ahh, just let it go,” Shiro soothes, words strained between his panting breaths. “We’re right behind you, _unh_ gonna paint you up just like you wanted while you’re coming on our cocks.”

Between Shiro’s words and Thace’s hand, it’s impossible to hold out.

_“Fuck!”_ Lance sobs. “I’m gonna come I’m gonna--”

“Oh god Lance, Thace, _fuck!”_ Shiro’s shout blends with Lance’s wordless cry just as Lance begins to pulse around them spilling all over Thace’s fist and stomach as Shiro throbs inside him, coating Lance’s insides in thick, sticky ropes.

Two jerking thrusts later and Thace is following them with an aching groan, releasing deep inside Lance to mix his cum with Shiro’s until Lance is so full that it begins to spill out of him, their mixed release sliding down his balls and the backs of his thighs.

The room is quiet but for their labored breathing, broken by a few quiet grunts and sighs as Shiro eases Lance down, boneless, to Thace’s chest before gently pulling out.

Lance is out before Thace has slipped from him and Shiro has returned with a cloth.

 

***

 

When Lance comes to, he is significantly less sticky than he last recalls, and he’s under a thin sheet, head cradled by a soft pillow. Two voices murmur softly to each other on either side of him, and two arms lay across his waist.

“There he is,” one of the voices says when he blinks his eyes half open. “Shiro and I were starting to think you were a goner.”

“M’ alive,” Lance mumbles, voice rough from sleep and sex. “Mostly. ‘Zis mean I get middle priv’leges back?”

“Do you get…? Oh. Hah, well, are you going to share the covers and not kick your bedmates?”

Lance’s eyes slide shut again with a faint smile. “Yeah.” He shifts under the sheets as the bodies move slightly closer, two walls of warmth at his sides. “I mean probably.” He yawns. “Maybe.”

“Menace.” The endearment whispers through his hair.

As he drifts off, two sets of lips at his temples and the promise of forever follow him into dreams.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you liked it, let me know! Kudos and comments give me inspiration to keep writing and just make me feel really nice. I'm always looking to improve, so let me know what your favorite part was, or if something didn't sound quite right. Leave me a heart or a smiley face, or just keysmash at me. I love it all!
> 
> Now that this is done consuming my life, I'll be getting back to my other WIPs. I'm not going to try to say what's coming next, because whatever I say I'll end up being wrong and posting something completely different. But if you liked this, subscribe to get notified of whatever bit of smut I post next!
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://ceiling-pool.tumblr.com/), I'm very friendly!


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